The Fog By Vehement

The constant sound of dripping water fills the empty air with geometric waves that coalesce into a vision. It is an amazing vision, absolutely stunning in its clarity and meaning.

It plays with it’s freedom of expression by transposing into different shades of color, expanding and contracting into unimaginable forms, carrying with it the echo of the drop left behind.

Regardless of the magnificence it displays, no-one notices it’s presence. It presses close to the face of those around it, caressing their skin with a light breeze. It swirls and retreats from the chaos of being brushed aside from their oblivious motion. Moaning in a sweet whisper it climbs to the sky to avoid neglect, searching for something, anything that will rejoice in it’s existance. It finds nothing.

In a wild desperation to be known it begins to grow, to expand it’s size to encompass the entire sky. It twists and turns within itself creating a brilliant force waiting to lash out at the earth below. Finally the energy created is so strong it strikes at the earth with a tremendous magnitude splitting the molecules of the air.

A deafening pattern of sound immediately spreads across the sky and pounds the ground while it searches out to reach every living thing in it’s vicinity to be heard. It cries out with tears of joy raining down on the earth below as it notices the people cowering down from the power it has been able to display...

...The figure steps out from underneath the canopy looking up to the sky. He feels the tension in the air, noticing the desperation in the rain.

He knows the source from which the chaos has ensued having been searching for it since it’s materialization. It needs to know, he needs to reveal to it what he has told everything else that he had come in contact with, those things that were so close to the understand on their own.

His journey has been nothing short of frustrating as he had seen what sitting at the edge of this knowledge can do to something.

The power the knowledge manifests can be so destructive. Awareness of the power can blind the weak from searching for the proper utilization of it, as it’s discovery far surpasses the intellect of that which would desire to seek. In times past, the awareness had come without the desire, there was nothing else known but this knowledge. It had thrived above and below, within and without everything that co-existed one upon another.


The exposure had come upon him as he searched for the source of his own insanity. Such were the confines of the asylum that he resided, there was little else to do. His world had been a masquerade of laws and regulations pushed upon him to which he would have nothing to do with.

It never felt right, he knew the deception was there, something was hiding in a dark cove somewhere with the strings attached to those given the leadership. Any claim against it was looked at as imperfect from the perfect society, nothing can dwell within it that is not pure. "So be it, but it is not what I see", he thought, but the charge of insanity was laid upon him without any regard to his opinion. Anything different was not allowed.


So here he was face to face with the charge he had given himself, to free those who had broken the veil but were still caught halfway in the illusion. Each encounter was breathtaking when he saw the imagination that came to life before him.

There truly was no limit upon existence. Yet with each new encounter came the struggle to discover how to make contact. Each entity created their own sense of identity and purpose within the world they found themselves in. More often then not they resulted to violence out of frustration of the lack of understanding of what was happening. Little did they know, their actions directly affected anything that resided upon the physical environment they manipulated.